LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



^lielf..i2>.7.S 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 









WITH AN INTRODUCTION 



35 



BY ^^^^^^^:;f^^ 



r, jVo..Ub.lA. 
KATE R. STILES. 



-^ 









Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1879, 

Br KATE R. STILES, 

in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



WORCESTER ; 

A. B. ADAMS, Printed. 

392 Main Street 



ZEPHYRS. 

To my angel Effie, the memory of whose life 
is an inspiration, I dedicate this little volume. 

INTRODUCTION. 

At the earnest solicitation of many dear 
friends, I present this little volume of poems be- 
fore the public, not expecting it will bear the 
test of severe criticism. I am not vain enough 
to suppose that these little "Zephyrs" will 
sweep over the spirit with the power of the 
strong breezeS; which are wafted to the soul 
from the poems of a Longfellow or a Whittier. 

Yet, although among the greater lights, the 
lesser may not prevail," they may, perchance, 
send out occasional gleams, which shall serve to 
brighten the way for a few hearts. 

KATE R. STILES. 

May, 1879. 



CONTENTS. 



Page. 

The Dead, -_.-.- 5 

Clover Blossoms, ----- 6 

Lines Written on a Stormy Night, - _ 8 

Lake Qiiinsigamond, - - - « - 10 

Lines Written for the Re-union of Pastor & People, 13 

Hope, - - - - - -- 15 

The Shipwreck, - - - - - 16 

Pansies, - - _ - - - 21 

Little Joe, A Christmas Story, . - _ 23 

The Infinite Love, ----- 27 

Lines on the Death of a Young Man, - 28 

The Flight of the Robin, - - - _ 34 

Musings, - - _ - _ - 88 

The Sabbath Bell, 39 

Words, - - - - - - 41 

The Postman, ----- 43 

The Triumph of Truth, - - - . 45 

Memorial Day, - - - - - 47 

Be True, ----- - 49 

Bayard Taylor, - - - - - 51 

The Husking Party, - - . - 53 

Autumn Leaves, - - - - _ 5(5 

Birthday Lines, - - - - _ 58 

No Room for the Children, _ - _ Gl 

Inspiration, - _ - - - - fi3 

Out of the Depths, - - - - - 07 

Life, - - - - - - - 72 

The Babe's Mission, - _ - _ 73 

Sweep Clean, - - - - - 75 

Castles in the Air, - - - . 77 

Sunbeams, - - . - - - 78 

Lift up the Fallen. ----- 79 

Why Tai-ry Ye Spring-timo, _ - - 80 

Invocfition, ------ 81 



TEE DEAD, 



THE DEAD. 

Call them not dead, who leave the earthly for 

the heavenly state. 
Their's is a life more real than ours ; 
And, while we weep for them such bitter, bitter 

tears. 
They come to us with words of light and cheer ; 
Bidding us wait in patience till our work on 

earth is done. 
Then shall we join them in that higher life, 
Where all which now seems full of deep, deep, 

mystery, 
Shall be unfolded to our view ; and we shall see 
That all the discipline of our earth life was 

needed, 
To fit our souls for knowledge infinitely greater, 

and far more glorious 
Than mortal mind can e'er attain, 



CLOVER BLOSSOMS, 



CLOVER BLOSSOMS. 

Pretty little clover, with your flowers so fair, 
Filling with their sweetness all the summer air ; 
Sad it is to see you crushed by careless feet, 
Pretty little clover, with your blossoms sweet. 

Grows the pretty clover everywhere we look ; 
All along the roadside — by the running brook. 
Beautiful and fragrant, are these little flowers. 
Ah ! how we should miss them from this world 
of ours ! 

Pretty little clover — scorned because you grow 
Without care or coaxing — making little show. 
Yet your flowers are sweeter than the rose or 

pink ; 
Modest little clover — this is what I think. 



CLOVER BLOSSOMS. 7 

There are many lives in this world of ours, 

Crushed, and scorned, and slighted 

Like these pretty flowers. 

Throwing out their sweetness on the desert air, 

Only seen by Him, who seeth everywhere. 



LINES WRITTEN ON A 
STORMY NIOHT 



LINES WRITTEN ON A STORMY NIGHT. 

Let the wintry breezes blow ! 

What care we ? 
Cold or heat, rain, hail or snow ; 

Oh what care we ? 
Life is full of brightness still, 
All may find it if they will, 
Only say to every ill, 

Oh what care we ? 

Oft our cup is upside down, 

But what care we ? 
It will do no good to frown, 

What care we ? 
Bravely bear it, as we should. 
Prom the evil comes the good, 
Grief's but joy, misunderstood ; 

Then what care we ? 



LINE8 WRITTEN ON A 
STORMY NIGHT. 

Though the world may not approve us, 

What care we ? 
There's a Heaven of love above us ; 

Then what care we ? 
God is with His children ever ; 
Helping on each grand endeavor. 
Fear not then : but answer ever, 

Oh, what care we ? 



10 LAKE QU1N8IGAM0ND. 



LAKE QUINSIGAMOND. 

Beautiful lake, with thy silvery sheen, 
Many a tale thou couldst tell I ween ; 
Tales of the years long since gone by, 
When the wild deer and the wolf were nigh ; 
When over thy waters fair and blue, 
The red man sailed in his birch canoe ; 
When no step but his was heard on thy shore 
As he wandered thy wooded hillsides o'er. 
Silvery lake, thou wert then, I trow. 
Fair and beautiful as now. 

Beautiful lake, art thou happier to-day, 

As over thy waters, the young and gay 

Float along in merry glee, 

Caring little for what is to be 

As they send their laughter thy waters o'er, 

Till its echo resounds from shore to shore ? 



LAKE QUIN8IGAM0ND. 11 

Are these sounds more sweet to thy listening ear 
Than the red man's cry thou was wont to hear? 
Beautiful lake, tell me I pray 
What dost thou think of life to-day ? 

Beautiful lake, so smooth and clear, 

Thou hast caused the falling of many a tear ; 

For in thy dark and strong embrace 

Lies many a well remembered face. 

Only the Infinite and thou 

Canst tell where rest these loved forms now ; 

But what matters it where the form may be 

Since the spirit has risen unfettered and free ? 

This thou wert powerless to enfold, 

Beautiful lake, in thy waters cold. 

Beautiful lake, I love to sit 

On thy banks, and watch the white sails flit 

And hear the laugh and the merry song 

Of happy hearts as they glide along ; 

Or at sunset's hour, which is sweeter far, 

Ere yet appears the evening star, 

To watch the shadows come and go ; 

And gazing in thy depths below, 



12 LAKE qmmiGAMONO, 

Eacli hill and vale, each shrub and tree, 
Reflected in thy face to see. 

Beautiful lake, thou art changeless ; but we 
Are not what we were, neither what we shall be. 
From the first dawn of life, man is changing 

each day, 
And thus will it be forever and aye ; 
For progression is part of the Infinite plan, 
And has ever been, since creation began. 
Oh, at life's sunset hour, looking back o'er the 

past. 
May reflections of beauty, be over it cast ; 
Even now as each hillside, and valley and tree, 
Beautiful lake, are seen mirrored in thee. 



LINES WRITTEN FOR THE 13 
REUNION OF FA8T0R & PEOPLE. 



LINES WRITTEN FOR THE RE-UNION 
OP PASTOR AND PEOPLE. 

To-night, as in this pleasant home we meet, 
The friends of former years once more to greet, 
Memory is stirred ; and, looking in each eye, 
We scarce can feel so many years have glided by, 
Since this dear friend and pastor^ whom we love, 
Pointed us to the paths which lead above. 
As once again, we open memory's book, 
Giving the past a retrospective look. 
Tenderly we turn the sacred pages o'er, 
And read the record of the days of yore. 
There have been changes in these homes since 

then. 
For time is ever busy in the haunts of men, 



14 LINE8 WRITTEN FOR THE 
RE- UNION OF PASTOR & PEOPLE. 

And, mingling with the music of delight, 
Are minor strains within our hearts to-night, 
As we recall the voices hushed and still, 
Of friends who rest on yonder churchyard hill, 
Fathers and mothers who long since went o'er 
The river we call death. From that near shore 
We almost catch the greetings, as we stand ; 
And reaching over, clasp them by the hand. 
But not the old alone, the young and gay, 
Have vanished from our earthly homes away, 
Their mission ended here, they find above 
Some blessed service still, for those they love. 
0, not in sadness would we view the past. 
For over all a rainbow tint is cast ; 
The Hand that sends the sunshine and the rain, 
Has on us each bestowed more joy than pain ! 
Were there no shadows in these lives of ours, 
We could not fully prize the sunny hours. 
Too much we're prone to dwell upon the past ! 
The present is the moment ! hold it fast ! 
There is no future — for all time is now ; 
Let us improve it ; — while in faith we bow 
To that which is, knowing it must be best ; 



HOPE, 15 

Rejoice in what we see, and trust God for the 

rest. 
So shall we each and every one — pastor and 

people, 
Hear the words " Well done." 



HOPE. 

Tho'the pathway of life oftentimes seemeth drear 
The rainbow of promise ere long shall appear ! 
The heaviest cloud hath a silvery sheen, 
Altho' through the darkness it may not be seen. 

0, then let us hope ! for the time draweth near 
When life's many mysteries shall be made clear. 
When hearts that are weary, and burdened with 

care. 
In the " Rest that Reraaineth," shall each have 

a share. 



16 THE SHIP WRECK. 



THE SHIPWRECK. 

A ship sailed out on the billowy sea, 
Full freighted with precious souls ; 

And manned by a crew both gallant and free, 
Who sing as the brave ship rolls. 

*' 0, a life on the sea — the foaming sea, 
And a home on the rolling tide, 

0, a sailor's life is the life for me, 
Yo heave," they merrily cried ! 

" Our boat is stanch, and tried and true, 

And a captain|brave have we. 
Hurrah ! Hurrah 1 we're as jolly a crew 

As sails on the boun^it^g sea I" 



THE SHIPWRECK 17 

But their song is hushed, as they feel a shock 
Which makes their stout hearts quail. 

" 0, God," they cry, The rock ! the rock ! 
The ship has struck a gale !" 

Men, women and children rush on deck, 

Their faces blanched with fear. 
They clasp each other about the neck ; 

And they feel that death is near. 

" Go down ! go down !" cries the captain brave, 

" This is not the place for you. 
I will do my best the ship to save ; 

She has a gallant crew." 

But e'en while he spoke, above the blast 

Was heard the fearful cry — 
" A leak ! the ship is filling fast ! 

And no earthly help was nigh. 

" Man the life-boat !" cries the captain brave 

In a tone of firm command. 
" Man the life-boat these lives to save ! 

And let every sailor stand* 



18 THE SHIP WRECK 

Firm at his post, till I give the sign 

For him to leave the ship. 
All hope of rescue I now resign," 

He said, with quivering lip. 

They lowered the boat o'er the vessel's side, 

Down into the surging sea. 
While over it swept the angry tide ; 
And they felt that only He 

Who holds the billows in His hand. 

Could guide this bark so frail, 
With its precious cargo, safe to land, 

And help it outride the gale. 

Then over the side of that dreadful wreck 

The passengers clambered fast ; 
Till the boat, which seemed like a tiny speck^ 

Was crowded full at last. 

At length all are gone, but the sailors brave, 
Who await their captain's word ; 

And soon, above the roaring wave, 
His manly voice is heard, 



THE SHIP WRECK 1 9 

'* Now go, my sailors ! go," he cried. 

You have been brave and true ; 
And oh, may God, your frail bark guide ! 

Adieu ! brave lads, adieu !" 

" Nay, wait not for me ; my place is here, 

And firmly here will I 
Stand at my post, with out one fear 

Whether I live or die !" 

Alone, upon that dreadful night, 

They left that captain brave. 
And, ere another morning's light, 

He found a watery grave. 

Ah ! brave young heart ! would that we all 

Might be as brave and true ; 
As prompt to answer duty's call, 

As was that gallant crew. 

How few are the hearts, that bravely will stand 

By the wreck of a human soul. 
Holding on with a firm, loving clasp to the hand 

As o'er it the dark billows roll. 



20 THE SHIPWRECK 

Perchance in smooth waters, our life-boat may- 
glide, 

While some tempest-tossed brother may be 
Sinking into the dark waves of sin, by our side ; 

Down into the turbulent sea. 

Shall we stand idly by, without seeking to save 
From a fate which far worse may be. 

Than the fate of that captain, so gallant and 
brave, 
Who was drowned in the depths of the sea. 

We each have a work for our brother to do. 

"His keeper," God made us to be. 
! then to our trust let us ever be true 

As we sail over life's stormy sea. 



PANSIE8. 21 



PANSIES. 

Pansies ! pansies ! what can compare 
With your varied colors so rich and rare ? 

Beautiful flower — in thee I trace 
The features of the human face. 

And when I look into thine eyes, 
They greet rae, with a glad surprise. 

I love to touch thy velvety cheek, 
And I almost fancy I hear thee speak. 

Ah ! well-a-day pansy, you and I 
Must part, for the summer has gone by. 

Soon in thy wintry bed thou'lt be. 
And a mantle of snow will cover thee. 



22 PAN8IE8, 

There shalt thou rest, till the spring-time rain 
Awakes thee from thy sleep again ; — 

Then thou'lt come forth as fresh and bright, 
As comes the sun, at the morning light. 

So farewell, pansy ; farewell till the spring. 
I shall look for thee, when the robins sing. 



LITTLE JOE, 23 

A CHEI8TMA8 8T0BY. 



LITTLE JOE— A CHRISTMAS STORY. 

'Twas Christmas morn, and little Joe 

Stood looking out upon the snow 

With sad and thoughtful face.^ 

His childish brow was knit with care ; 

Unlike the smile 'twas wont to wear, 

It now bore sorrow's trace. 

His mother said, ''What is it, dear ? 

Come to mamma, and let her hear 

The story of your grief. 

I do not like to see you sad 

On Christmas day, when all are glad. 

Come here, and find relief. 

By telling mamma all your woe. 

What is it troubles little Joe? " 

Mamma^ I didn't mean to be 

Om bit unhappy— but you see, 



24 LITTLE JOE, 

A 0HRI8TMA8 8T0RY. 

I could'nt help it quite. 

I don't feel very good, because 

'Tis Christmas day — and "Santa Glaus, 

I'm sure, has not done right, 

To give so many books and toys 

To all the other little boys. 

While I have none at all. 

Why mamma, he brought Charley Spring 

A basket full of every thing. 

There was a rubber ball. 

And books, and marbles, and a top ; 

Enough to fill a little shop. 

Why could'nt Santa Claus have said, 

I'll carry some to Joe, instead 

Of giving him so many ? 

If I were he, I'm sure I'd go 

To every boy and girl I know ; 

I would'nt pass by any ; 

rd give them all some toy or book. 

Mamma", and here the child's form shook 

With sobs of pent-up sorrow ; 

" What makes God give to other boys, 

A papa, and such lots of toys ? 



LITTLE JOE, 25 

A CHRISTMAS STORY, 

'Tis just one year to-morrow, 

You say, since God called papa dear 

Away to Heaven and left us here. 

Why couldn't he have stayed? 

We used to have such lots of fun, 

Papa and I, how he v/ould run 

When Christmas games we played. 

And then the great nice Christmas tree ! 

Sometimes I shut my eyes, and see 

The house we used to live in. 

Oh, mamma dear, it makes you cry ; 

Don't dear mamma, for by and by 

Like papa, up in heaven, 

I'll be a man ; and then I'll go 

And buy it back, before you know ; — 

And then, on Christmas day 

I'll take you, mamma, there to live. 

And oh ! such presents I will give ! 

I'll have a tree that day, 

And call in all the girls and boys, 

And give them, oh ! such lots of toys, 

And if they're poor, some money. 

Oh 1 mamma, 'twont be long to wait, 



26 LITTLE JOE, 

A CHEI8TMA8 STORY, 

Kiss me, mamma, for at the gate 

Is little cousin Johnny. 

Now, mamma dear, please do not cry ; 

I'm going out to play, good bye." 

The mother wiped away her tears, 

And prayed that in the coming years, 

Her darling little Joe, 

Might be, as on this Christmas day, 

Tender and pitiful, alway. 

Toward every child of woe. 



THE INFINITE LO VE. . 27 



THE INFINITE LOVE. 

The gates of the " Heavenly City" 

Stand open both night and day ; 

God, the keeper, feels nothing but pity ; 

He never turns any away. 

'Tis man who closes the portals, 

Against his poor brother man. 

Alas ! that short-sighted mortals, 

Should call it the " Infinite plan 1" 

Our Heavenly Father is tender ! 
He loveth His children too well. 
To give to each poor offender 
The unceasing torments of "Hell." 
His love is more true than a mother's 
For the infant she bears on her breast ; 
More true than a sister's or brother's ; 
Oh. then in that love let us rest I 



28 LINE8 ON THE DEATH 
OF A YOUNG MAN 



LINES ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG 

MAN. 

A mother bends over a darling son, 

Whose work on earth is nearly done ; 

And she cries in accents of bitter woe, 

'' My darling one, can I let thee go ? 

Can I give thee back to the Power that gave ? 

Must this manly form rest in the grave ? 

These lips to mine, shall I no more press ? 

Nor my hand clasp thine in fond caress ? 

Must I wait in vain thy step to hear ? 

Will thy voice no longer greet my ear ? 

Oh, this would be anguish too great to bear ! 

I cannot, oh. Father, not e'en to thy care, 

Surrender this life so dear to me. 

Oh, Infinite Father, must it be ? 

Must I drink from this cup of bitter woe ? 

Oh, I cannot let my dear one go I" 



LINES ON THE DEATH 29 
OF A YOUNG MAN. 

O'er the couch of his son, the father is bending ; 
While his tears, with those of his mother are 

blending, 
And his agonized cry to the Infinite One — 
Is, " spare me, oh Father, my idolized son ! 
Spare the life which so closely entwines round 

my heart ! 
My son ! oh my son ! from thee must I part ? 
The hope of my future — my pride and my joy ! 
Oh, what w^ould life be, if bereft of my boy ? 

While in anguish these parents thus plead for 

their son, 
A voice whispers to them " Let God's will be 

done." 
" Thy will," they responded — oh, help us to say, 
Thy will, oh our Father, both now, and alway." 
It stilled the wild tempest of sorrow and pain, 
And brought to their minds that sweet promise 

again ; 
Of strength, with the trial — -of light mid the 

gloom, 
And a life never ending, beyond the dark tomb. 



30 LINES ON THE DEATH 
OF A YOUNG MAN 

Then they thought of the loved, who had passed 

on before, 
Who would greet their dear boy, on that beau- 
tiful shore — 
And give him a welconae, so tender and kind, 
And help him rich treasures of knowledge to find. 
There was one, like a sister, they felt she was 

near, 
With the ear of the spirit, her voice they could 

hear, 
Saying, ^' Be of good cheer ; the stream is not 

wide ; 
And the friend that you love, is here by your 

side. 
Your dear one will come to this beautiful land, 
But still you shall feel the soft touch of his hand. 
In whispers of love, his voice you shall hear, 
As he speaks to your spirits in tones sweet and 

clear. 

Now the breath of the sick one comes faintly 

and slow, [must go. 

And they feel that their first-born, their darling 



LINES ON THE DEATH 31 
OF A YOUNG MAN 

They kiss liirn once more ere his spirit takes 

flight ;— 
While his hps softly murmur, "dear mother, 

good night. 
Good night my dear father, I go to my home — 
The angels are waiting, they bid me to come." 
One sigh ! all is over ! the spirit is free ! 
The casket of clay, no more needed will be. 
Compose the dear limbs ! fold the hands o'er 

the breast ! 
His sufferings are ended ! he's gone to his rest ! 
No longer these parents their vigil need keep 
By the side of their son, he has fallen asleep. 

The father in tears is seeking relief, 
The mother is sleeping, worn out with her grief. 
In her slumbers she sees the face of her child, 
Bending over her pillow ; and sweetly he smiled. 
She awakes, crying fondly, " My dear one, my 

own 1 
But alas I with her waking the vision had flown. 
She thought it a dream — tho' the vision was true; 
And, putting it from her, as poor mortals do, 



32 LINES ON THE DEATH 
OF A YOUNG MAN. 

She moaned in her anguish, " Oh, would I 

could be 
Thus dreaming forever, my dear one, of thee !" 
Then, unto her spirit in tones soft and low, 
Came the words, " I am with you wherever you 

go; 

And, mother, not only in dreams, shall I be 
Enabled to whisper sweet comfort to thee, 
For I know that the Father will help me to give, 
In the hours of your waking, some proof that I 
live." 

Like the fall of the dew upon leaflet and flower, 
Like the sound of sweet music, at twihght's 

still hour, 
Like the glorious sun, after long night of gloom. 
These low whispered words, shed a light o'er 

the tomb. 
And the mother, no longer oppressed by her 

woes. 
Sank peacefully back again into repose. 
At length she awakes from her slumbers, to find 
The light streaming in jthrough the half open blin4) 



LIMES OJ^ THE (DEATH 33 
OF A YOUMG MAJ<[. 

And she utters a prayer that the sunlight of love 
May thus enter her spirit,' and lift it above. 
Then refreshed and submissive, she says, "It is 

o'er ! 
My dear one is resting, I'll murmur no more ; — 
But in faith I will bow to the Infinite One, 
For I know, ' It is well' — ' It is well ' with my 

son ! 



34 THE FLIGHT OF THE EOBIJ^. 



THE FLIGHT OF THE ROBIN. 

A dear little maid, one autumn day 
Stood under a maple, bright and gay, 
Looking up at a robin — with wings outspread, 
While in pleading tones these words she said:— 

" Are you going away little robin ? 

Your wings are all plumed for a flight. 
Would you leave me alone little robin ? 

Is it thus all my care you requite?" 

"I've loved you and fed you, dear robin, 

For many and many a day ; 
Now when I most need you, dear robin, 

You're ready to fly far away." 



THE FLIGHT OF THE EOBI^f. 35 

"'Tis true that cold winter is coming 

And the leaves will be gone from the tree ; 

But I have a warm heart dear robin, 
Its love shall thy safe shelter be." 

" I'll give thee a nook in the window 
Where roses and hyacinths bloom. 

I need your sweet song, my dear robin, 
To drive away sadness and gloom." 

" ril feed you, my dear little robin, 
With crumbs from my table each day. 

You shall never know want, little robin, 
If only with me you will stay." 

But Robin was deaf to her pleading, 

For love will not always prevail; 
Her prayers and entreaties unheeding, 

He flew from the snow and the hail. 

Away to the south flew the robin, 

Where skies wear a balmier hue ; 
Away from the hand that had fed him, 

From the love that was tender and true, 



36 THE FLIGHT OF THE EOBIJ^. 

For a time all went well w^ith the robin, 
And he flitted about 'mong the trees ; 

Warbling his song from their branches, 

As they swayed in the warm, southern breeze. 

But at length, our little friend Robin 
Grew weary of sunshine and heat, 

" I'll stay here no longer "said robin, 
" But will find me a cooler retreat." 

Then the heart of the poor little robin 
Grew sad, as he thought of the day 

When he turned from the dear little maiden, 
And his nest in the maple so gay. 

" I'll go back to her home " said the robin ; 

Perchance she will bid me to stay. 
She was always a kind friend to robin. 

Oh, why was I tempted to stray ? " 

When spring spread her beautiful mantle 
O'er hillside, and valley, and plain. 

The maiden oft w^ondered if Robin 

Would come back to the maple again. 



THE FLIGHT OF THE ROBIN. 37 

One morn as she threw up the casement 

To let in the balmy spring air, 
In flew her own dear little robin 

And perched on the back of her chair. 

" Take me back to your love," said the robin, 
" I'll wander no more from your side, 

But through winter as well as in summer, 
I'll evermore with you abide." 

0, is it not thus that the children 

Full oft leave the dear old home nest. 

To find that though skies may be fairer. 
The old love and home are the best ? 

And thus do we oft in our blindness. 

Unheeding the voices within, 
Stray away from the Infinite kindness 

To roam in the by-paths of sin. 

But at length we grow weary of straying 
For the pleasures of sin always pall. 

And a voice to our spirits is saying, 
" Let the evil no longer enthrall." 



38 MUSINGS, 

And when like the prodigal^ son, 
We turn from our wanderings wild, 

We find that the Infinite Father, 
Has never forsaken his child. 



MUSINGS. 

I sat by my window; watching 

The flakes of the faUing snoW; 
Flitting hither and thither, 

As though asking, ''which way shall I go?" 
And I likened them in their motion, 

To the fate of our human lives — 
Which are never at rest, but kept tossing, 

Wherever the tempest drives. 
Tossed by temptation and trial, 

By necessity, dire and stern. 
Jostled, and pushed, and crowded. 

Till we know not which way to turn. 
Then I thought, as each tiny snowflake, 

Drifts at last to the place of its rest, 
So, sometime, will each of earth's children, 

Find the work and the place that is best. 



THE SABBA TH BELL. 39 



THE SABBATH BELL. 

Ding (long ! ding dong ! . 
Rings the bell from out the steeple. 
Ding dong ! ding dong ! see the people, 

As the bell 

With its swell 

Seems to say 

Come away 

'Tis Sabbath day. 

Ding dong ! ding dong ! 
In answer to the call they go. 
The rich and poor, the high and low, 

To praise and pray. 

They haste away ; 

The numbers swell, 

As sounds the bell 

Through vale and dell. 



40 THE 8ABBA TH BELL. 

Ding dong ! ding dong ! 

What varied feeling it awakes ; 

Of joy and sadness it partakes. 
0! Sabbath bell, 
You cannot tell, 
What tender feeling, 
And deep revealing, 
Lies in your pealing. 

Ding dong ! ding dong ! 
! Sabbath bells, ring out more clearly, 
Till everywhere, hearts more sincerely 
Worship and pray. 
King in the day 
Toward which we tend, 
When hearts shall blend, 
And all our prayers as one ascend. 



WORDS, 41 



WOEDS. 

Words are little things ; but then 
They decide the fate of naen ; 

By them, souls are stirred ; 
Ah ! how little do we know 
What a weight of joy or woe 

May hang on a word ! 

Could we only stop and think 
That perhaps a severed link 

From our words may flow ; 
Would the thoughtless word be spoken, 
By which tender ties are broken, 

Causing tears of woe ? 

Didfwe know what joy and gladness, 
We could bring to hearts of sadness 
By a loving tone ; 



42 W0RD8. 

How the weiglit of care would ligliten, 
And the dreary path would brighten, 
Of the lives so lone ! 

Should we not be ever trying 
While the hours of life are flying, 

For a loving heart ? 
So that unto souls a- weary, 
Unto those whose lives are dreary, 

We might joy impart. 

Words are little things — yet still 
How much of our lives they fill 

With their weal or woe. 
How much happiness they bring. 
And how bitterly they sting, 

Every heart doth know. 



THE POSTMAN. 43 



THE POSTMAN. 

'Tis almost time for the postman's ring. 

All ! how eagerly day by day 
Do we ask — Will he tidings from loved ones 
bring ? 

From the loved ones far away ? 

Will he come with messages of cheer 

Sent by some loving friend? 
Or will the tidings be dark and drear, 

And the lines in sadness penned? 

Ah! postman 1 how often does your ring 

Prove only a funeral knell ! 
Alas! how oft does your coming bring 

A sadness we cannot tell ! 



44 THE POSTMAN. 

Though there's joy in the sound of your well 
known ring, 

There's sadness, as well, we know; 
For often, too often, the tidings you bring, 

Cause tears of deep anguish to flow. 

Yet we list for the sound of your well known 
ring 
Each day as the time comes round. 
Though we know not what tidings your coming 
will bring, 
'Tis ever a welcome sound. 



THE TRIUMPH OF TRUTH 45 



THE TRIUMPH OF TRUTH. 

The light is breaking! the world is waking 
From its long sleep of dark despair, 

And the glad nnorning is surely dawning, 
When truth shall triumph everywhere. 

For long, long ages, both seers and sages, 

Have prophesied of a glad day, 
When doubt and terror and every error. 

Before Truth's light should fade away. 

And when the angels with glad evangels 
Should come to mortals here below, 

And ope the portals to joys immortal, 

That thus earth's sorrowing ones might 
know,— = 



46 THE TRIUMPH OF TRUTH. 

That life eternal, and joys supernal, 
Await them in the coming years. 
The full fruition of this condition. 
When smiles shall take the place of tears. 

Then do not borrow one care or sorrow; 

Let not one doubt or fear assail ; 
Press onward ever — forgetting never 

That Truth and Right will sure prevail. 

With joy and gladness, and not in sadness. 
Look to the life beyond the tomb. 

O'er all victorious, it shall be glorious 
As sunlight, after night of gloom. 



MEMORIAL DAY. 47 



MEMORIAL DAY. 

We have been to the graves of our heroes today, 

And over their loved forms have scattered 
Our memorial of flowers — sweet blossoms of May; 
While we wept o'er the fond hopes thus shat- 
tered. 

We wept as we thought of the blood that was 
shed, 
And our hearts thrilled with sadest emotion 
As we thought of the loved ones now silent and 
dead, 
Who, filled with the fire of devotion. 

Left all that was dear to engage in the strife. 
At the call of their country and nation; 

All honor to each who laid down his life, 
Whether lowly or high was his station, 



48 MEMORIAL DA Y, 

All honor to husband, and father, and son, 
Who fought against wrong and oppression; 

Let us ever remember^ the victory they won, 
Gave us liberty for our possession. 

Ah ! 'tis meet that a day of Memorial like this, 
To these dear martyred ones should be given ; 

Though it cause us to weep for the forms that 
we miss, 
And sigh for the fond ties thus riven. 

Tis meet that we gather the choicest of flowers. 
And twine them with fond loving fingers, 

To lay on the graves of these heroes of ours 
Where affection so sacredly lingers. 



BE TRUE. 49 



BE TRUE. 

Speak out for the right! stand up for the truth! 

In whatever light you may view it! 
Wherever you see there's a work you can do, 

Go fearlessly forward and do it. 

Don't stop to inquire what people will say; 

Your work is your own — not another's ! 
Let no one's opinion e'er stand in your way, 

Even though it should be a loved brother's. 

Wherever your lot in life may be cast,_ 
Whether lowly or high be your station, 

If you're true to your own convictions of right, 
You are working for man's elevation. 



50 BE TRUE. 

You may not have riches, or honor, or power; 

But there's something far higher and better 
For "Riches take wings," and honor and fame 

Too often prove only a fetter; 

But he who can fearlessly stand by the right, 
And face every wrong and oppression. 

Is richer than he who lacks courage, although 
The wealth of the world's his possession. 



BAYARD TAYLOR, 51 



BAYARD TAYLOR. 

Call him not dead ! there is no death ! 
Although the outward form may perish 
And from our sight be hid. Tis not the form 
we cherish. 

Earth well may spare the casket, 
If the jewel it contains, 

In its brilliancy and splendor, unbroken, still 
remains. 

Thoughts, words and deeds outlive the fleeting 

breath ! 
Transcribed upon life's page 
They ever stand! a joyous, or a darksome h^i- 

tage. 



52 BAYARD TAYLOR. 

These are the man! the clay- 
Is but the scaffolding, by which we climb 
Upward, and onward, toward things more sub- 
lime. 

This grand heroic soul, stands now 

Without the help of scaffolding of clay; 

His spirit basking in the sunlight of eternal day. 

Unto his fellow men he has bequeathed 

A legacy of rich and noble thought. 

Of him, shall no one say "He lived for nought" ! 

Ah! soul so noble and so strong! 
From thy new life in realms sublime, 
Waft us an inspiration, for. the work of coming 
time! 



IHE HUSKING PARTY. 53 



THE HUSKING PARTY. 

'Twas on a bright October day, 
That young and old, with faces gay, 
From city homes and country farms, 
Went forth to taste the rustic charms 
Of an old fashioned husking. 

They came from near and far to see 
What old time harvesting might be. 
To "Pleasant Hill''' they wend their way, 
Where, in the autumn sunshine, lay 
The golden corn, for husking. 

With hearts brim full of mirth and glee 
They fall to work, right cheeril}'-; 
And as they work, some slyly say, 
"I wonder who will find to day 
The red ear, while we're husking? 



54 THE HUSKING PARTY. 

And as the merrj laugh goes round, 
The hills are echoing to the sound. 
While stories of the by-gone days^ 
Of apple bees, and harvest plays. 
Make pleasant work of husking. 

The signal comes — they pause at last. 
And hie them to the noons repast. 
And now comes speech and pleasant toast; 
While many a fair one makes her boast 
Of doing most at husking. 

The hour for dinner being o'er, 
They hasten to their task once more, 
With happy laugh and merry jest. 
While busy fingers do their best 
To finish up the husking. 

At length each golden ear of corn, 
Is of its outer covering shorn. 
Thus might life's duties all be done, 
Would we but take them one by one 
Like ears of corn, at husking, 



THE HUSKING PARTY. 65 

And now the merry "Grangers" sing 
In joyous strains of harvesting. 
While sparkling eye, and ruddy cheek 
And pleasant smile, all plainly speak 
Of the delights of husking. 

The supper o'er, the husking done. 
They dance and sing till set of sun. 
Then with farewells they speed away, 
With happy thoughts of this glad day, 
This merry day of husking. 



66 A UTUMN LEA VES. 



AUTUMN LEAVES. 

! beautiful autumn leaves that vie 
With the gorgeous tints of the sunset sky ! 
I welcome your coming, with pleasure untold; 
0; beautiful treasures of crimson and gold ! 

There's a sadness steals over my spirit 'tis true, 
At the thought that to summer I've bidden 

adieu ; 
But the autumn hath glories, which well may 

compare 
With the beauties of spring — or the soft summer 

air. 

! beautiful leaves, I'll not leave you to perish 
Alone in the forest — with no one to cherish; 



A UTUMN LEA VES. 57 

Where the cold winds of winter shall chill and 

decay 
And turn your bright colors all sonobre and gray. 

But I'll gather you up; and with berries and 

mosses, 
My fingers shall twine you in garlands and 

crosses, 
Your beauty shall be, through the dark wintry 

days. 
Like an anthem of joy or a tribute of praise. 



58 BIRTHDA Y LINES. 



BIRTHDAY LINES. 

Forty-one years with its hopes and fears, 
Forty-one years of smiles and tears, 
Have passed — since on my infant brow 
A mother's first kiss was placed; and now, 
Sitting here in the twilight gray, 
On this my anniversary day, 
Let me review the past ; — and see 
What these years have done for me. 

Forty-one years 1 why it seems but a day 
Since I knelt at my mother's knee, to pray; 
While her voice was ascending in accents mild, 
Invoking heaven's blessings upon her child. 
That mother was early called away; 
Yet I feel she is near me day bv day ; 
Watching over the child, she lett 
Of a mother's loving care, bereft. 



BIRTHDA Y LINES. 59 

Time passed ; and then there came another 
To care for her child : a second mother. 
God bless her to-night in her distant home, 
And when her last hour of earth shall come, 
May the mother who bore us take her hand, 
And welcome her into the "Summer Land." 

Ere I reached the years of maidenhood 

By a father's dying bed^I stood;— 

Bereft again of a parent's care, 

I felt it was more than I could bear! 

Dear father, I know that although unseen, 

Thou, too, with thy child hast oft-times been. 

A few years more, and a youthful bride, 

I pledged my troth at the altar's side, 

To one I had chosen from all I knew. 

By whose side to walk life's journey through. 

At length, there came to bless our home, 

A httle life, from the Great Unknown. 

Over this child so frail and fair,^ 

We watched with many an anxious care, 

From infancy to girlhood's years. 

Alternating 'tween hopes and fears. 

But there came a day when hope was gone;— 



60 BIRTHDA Y LINES. 

And our beautiful singing-bird had flown; — 

Leaving our hearts so lone and sad, 

We thought we could nevermore be glad; 

The sun seemed blotted from the sky; 

And I almost prayed that I might die. 

But from out this cloud, a beautiful light 

Shone into my heart; and so, to-night, 

Sitting here in this quiet place, 

A light from my darUng's angel face 

Illumines the past — and I know her hand 

Is beckoning me on to the "Better Land." 

Forty-one years! more than half the span 
Allotted here to the life of man ! 
Years fraught with many a sorrow and care ; 
Yet from my life record, not one could I spare; 
Since in later years, I have come to see 
That what is, is best — or it would not be. 
True, on my life book, there have been writ, 
Deeds which have caused me tears of regret. 
But the past is past, and I put it away; 
While from my heart I fervently pray, 
That my future, if future for me there be, 
May be lived more truly and earnestly, 



NO BOOM FOR THE CHILDUEN. 61 



NO ROOM FOR THE CHILDREN. 

No room for the children ! alas ! it is sad 

That the dear little children who make life so 

glad, 
Whose innocent mirth and tender caressing, 
Should be to their parents a joy and a blessing, 
Too often are met with a frown or a sigh, 
Their rights all ignored or unheeded passed by. 

No room for the children ! how often we hear 
So thoughtlessly uttered, the words, "No my 

dear, 
You cannot come into the parlor to-day. 
There is company coming; so run to your play." 
The child goes away, feeling troubled and sad ; 
And she says to herself, "Oh! I shall be glad 
When I am grown big like mamma, and can 

stay 



62 NO ROOM FOR TEE CHILDREN. 

With her and papa in the parlor all day. 
I wonder if mamma was ever, like me, 
Too little to stay in the parlor and see 
The beautiful ladies, with dresses so fine, 
Who came with her mamma and papa to dine. 
Oh! I wish God would help me to hurry and 

grow, 
And then with papa and mamma, I could go 
To ride in the carriage, and not hear them say, 
'There, run away darling, run off to your play.' " 

"No room for the children!" there may come a 

day. 
When the children no longer will be in the way; 
When the angels shall come from the mansions 

above. 
And bear them away to the bright realms of love. 
Ah ! parents ; there may come a day when your 

child 
May be by the tempter ensnared and beguiled; 
When the words you now utter, " there, there, 

run away," 
Shall be changed to the pleading ones, "stay at 

home, stay." 



INSPIRATION. 63 



INSPIRATION. 

Inspiration! oh whence comes it? Whence its 

power? ah! who can tell? 
As it sweeps the spirits' harp-strings, with its 

wondrous magic spell! 
Wafted to us in the breezes, as they fan our 

cheek and brow; 
Speaking to us in the tempest, 'gainst whose 

might the forests bow ! 
Whispering to us from the dew-drops, and the 

gentle summer showers, 
Rushing o'e us, with a mighty overwhelming 

power, 
As with awe and adoration, stand we silent by 

the sea, 
While the roaring, surging billows, tell us of 

Infinity. 
Poming to us from the sand upon the shore, 



64 INSPIRATION. 

From the proud majestic mountain reaching 

upward evermore; 
Till the heavens seem to greet them, with a 

fond and loving kiss. 
Oh! the wondrous inspiration, that comes from a 

scene like this. 
How we feel the mighty Presence, as upon the 

mount we stand ! 
Gazing outward in the distance, over sea, and 

over land; 
Or beneath, into the valley; where the fleecy 

cloudlets lie, 
Until, like a lake of silver, seems the valley, 

from on high. 
On these glorious cloud-pictures, how we gaze 

in silent awe; — 
While our spirits, soaring heavenward, from 

them inspiration draw. 
Thus, unto us, nature ever, speaks in tones so 

loud and clear, 
That, whoever will but listen, her sweet ca- 
dences shall hear. 
But 'tis not alone from nature, tb^t tho gQul this 

power derives; 



INSPIRATION, 65 

The sublimest inspiration, comes to us from 

human lives. 
From the heroes who have struggled 'gainst 

temptations mighty power; 
Battling with the wrong and evil, day by day, 

and hour by hour; 
Till at length they stand victorious over each 

besetting sin; 
Giving proof in daily living, of the purity within. 
How such glorious lives inspire us, even though 

their lips are mute. 
Just as sometimes o'er the spirit, does the whis- 
pering of the lute, 
Sweep with power, by far more potent than can 

come from organ's swell ; 
E'en as from the little brooklet, running through 

the mossy dell. 
We have drawn an inspiration, greater, than 

when on the shore 

Of old ocean, we stood listening to its ceaseless 

surge and roar. 
Ah! not always will the eloquence of language 

tell, 



66 INSPIRATION, 

There's an eloquence in silence — we are taught 

to know as well. 
Inspiration! 'tis around us, and above us, in the 

very air we breathe, 
When the Infinite Creator gave us life, he did 

bequeath 
Power to gather this rich treasure from the 

beautiful and pure. 
Drink, then^ ever at this fountain; 'tis unfailing 

and secure; 

Fixed as Heaven's eternal law, 

From it every one may draw. 



UT OF THE DEPTHS. 67 



OUT OF THE DEPTHS. 

In my home I sat aweary, 
Thinking of the life so dreary 

That before me lay ; 
Of the life once bright and cheery, 
That was now so dark and dreary, 
That had been so sad and lonely, 
Since my darling one, my only. 

Passed from earth away; 
Taking with her all the brightness. 
All the joy and all the lightness. 

Leaving me so lone, 
That my heart could not cease moaning. 
Could not cease its bitter groaning, 

For my child — my own. 

Thus I sat in deepest sadness 
Thinking of the joy and gladness, 
That alas ! had flown : 



68 UT OF THE DEPTHS, 

Thinking of the joy and pleasure 
That she gave in such full measure, 
Thinking of her cheerful smiling, 
Of her song, the hours beguiling, 

And her loving tone. 
Till these memories o'er me thronging 
Filled me with intensest longing 

Andlcried, "0 tell! 
Where is heaven? and is she there? 
Did she climb the 'Golden stair'? 

With her is it well?" 

Though an angel child she seemed, 
Had she really been redeemed? 
Was she born of God? 
Had the blood on Calvary spilt. 
Made atonement for her guilt? 
Thus I pondered, sorely grieving, 
The old dogma still believing^ 

That by Jesus' blood 
Only, could the soul secure 
Life in Heaven; and was I sure 

That she had believed? 



OUT OF THE DEFTHS. 69 

Though her Hfe was pure and sweet, 
And she seemed for Heaven made meet, 
Had she been received? 

"Lord," I cried in bitter anguish; 
"For some proof my soul doth languish, 

That in Heaven above 
With the blest and pure "Immortals" 
Who have passed within its portals^ 
With the pure and holy angels. 
She is chanting glad evangels. 
Chanting hymns of love. 
She while here, was ever singing, 
Her sweet tones were ever ringing, 

Like a silvery bell. 
Oh ! almost beyond endurance 
Seems my grief — without assurance 

That with her, 'tis well." 

While thus, I sat moaning, sobbing. 
And my burdened heart was throbbing 

With its bitter grief. 
Suddenly a voice said near me, 
Child of earth, I come to cheer thee ; 



70 UT OF THE DEPTHS. 

Come to bring the words of gladness ; 
Come to drive away the sadness; 

Come to bring relief 
Come to tell you that your child 
With her life so sweet and mild, 

Had a heaven on earth. 
And Death could not disinherit 
Of the pure and loving spirit 

Given her at birth. 

But when she passed o'er the Eiver, 
When from earth her soul did sever, 

All that she had gained 
By fulfilment of each duty, 
All that gave her life such beauty, 
All \h^ love and all the pleasure. 
Every grace your soul doth treasure, 

All that was attained, 
By her, in the earth condition, 
Passed with her to full fruition, 

When to her 'twafl given 
O'er the Golden stair' to climb 
Upward toward the life sublime. 

To the life called "Heaven." 



UT OF THE DEPTHS. 71 

As he spoke the cloud was rifted 
From my eoul, the burden lifted, 

And a flood of light 
Filled my soul with radiant gleaming, 
With a new and heavenly beaming 
Like a pure seraphic vision 
Wafted from the realms elysian. 

Life once more seemed bright. 
As the flood of light rolled o'er me. 
Backward turned life's page before me. 

Backward like a scroll. 
And I saw Heaven's elevation 
Could be reached, but by gradation ; 

By the growth of soul. 

This is wha.t the angel taught md, 
This the lesson that he brought me, 

That to me was given 
As I sat that day aweary, 
In my home so dark and dreary. 
In my home so sad and lonely. 
Where so late, my child, my only. 

From me had been riven. 
Now no more in doubt and sorrow 



72 LIFE. 

Walk I, but Bweet hope I borrow 
From the lesson taught. 
Now I know that Heaven must ever 
Oome by earnest pure endeavor ! 
It must be inwrought ! 



LIFE. 

Men come and go! 
Almost before they learn to know 
That they are here, they disappear. 

Ah! sad 'twould be 
If this were all; this mortal life ; 
These few brief years of pain and strife. 

But 'tis not all! 
For when we leave this earthly clay 
To higher life we soar away. 



THE BABES MISSION. 73 



THE BABE'S MISSION. 

Upon its motlier's breast a babe lay sleeping; 
While tears of bitter anguish she was weeping; 
The while her lonely vigil she was keeping. 

'Twas but a few brief years, since she a youthful 

bride 
Had pledged her troth to one, who, at the altar 

Promised to love and cherish, till death should 
divide. 

Alas! how had that vow been kept? 

She asked, then bowed her head and wept 

Meanwhile upon her breast her infant slept. 

Fiercely the storm was raging; and the ram 
With dismal sound beat gainst the window pane, 
The mother bent her listening ear in vam, 



74 THE BABFS MIS8I0K 

No sound save of the storm greeted her ear; 
Not one familiar foot-step could she hear, 
To tell her he for whom she wept was near. 

From out the tower the solemn midnight bell, 
Fell on her ear like a deep funeral knell ; 
And at the sound, faster the tear-drops fell. 

"0, God," she cried, while thus her tears did 

flow, 
"How can I bear this heavy weight of woe? 
Shall I no more sweet peace and comfort know? 

While thus the mother prayed in accents wild, 
The babe upon her breast looked up and smiled; 
The shadows vanished as she kissed her child. 

She raised her tearful eyes above 

And said, Father, I thank thee for this little dove; 

I've something yet to live for, and to love." 



SWEEP CLEAN, 75 



SWEEP CLEAN. 

We remember well, tlie lesson 
Taught us in our early days 

By the mother, who was seeking 
To instruct in household ways. 

She would say, "sweep clean my child," 
As in hand we took the broom; 

Push aside the chairs and table. 
Sweep the corners of the room. 

Now in later years, the lesson 
Is with deeper meaning fraught; 

And we ask, do we the corners 
Of our lives, sweep as we ought? 



76 SWEEP CLEAN. 

Do we push aside^ whatever 
Shuts the evil from our view? 

Or do we sweep but the surface 
Making that seem fair and true? 

While within the hidden places 
Of our hearts, there yet may be, 

Thoughts and deeds impure, unholy, 
That we do not care to see. 

Let us one and all remember. 

That to us will come a day, 
When the outward guise and semblance. 

From the soul, will pass away. 

When the things which now seem hidden, 

Cannot but, by us be seen. 
0, then, while the hours are flying. 

Let us sweep life's corners clean ! 



CA8TLE8 IN THE AIR. 77 



CASTLES IN THE AIR. 

How oft in our lives have we builded 

"Castles in air." 
They were fashioned in beauty and gilded, 

Made costly and rare. 

We thought they were firm and secure, 

These castles of ours, 
And that they would surely endure, 

Through life's passing hours. 

But alas! they have crumbled away; 

These castles of ours ; 
Faded out like a bright summer day; 

Like the beautiful flowers. 

Ah! well! there are mansions above, 
More firm and secure; 

That were builded by Infinite Love^ 
And will ever endure. 



78 8UNBEAM8. 



SUNBEAMS. 

Welcome, cheerful sunbeams! 

Welcome, to my room ! 
When you come, you always 

Drive away the gloom. 

Life would be less dreary, 
Did we let the beam 

Of the sun, more freely, 
O'er our pathway gleam. 

While we drop the curtain 

To shut out its ray, 
Nature's voice is saying 

"Bask in it alway. " 

0, then let us cherish 

Every sunny ray! 
So that when there cometh, 

^s there will, a day 



LIFT UP THE FALLEN. 79 

When the sun is hidden, 

And the clouds are drear, 
We may from past sunbeams, 

Gather hope and cheer. 



LIFT UP THE FALLEN. 

Lift up the fallen, oh, pass them not by! 

No matter how low they may be, 
They are your brothers ! and often they sigh. 

From the thraldom of sin to be free. 

Oh, you who are strong, a duty you owe 

To those who are tempted and weak, 
Go to them in love, and in sympathy, go ! 
And words of encouragement speak. 

To the weak ones of earth the angels come down, 

And strive to uplift and to cheer. 
0, then let us never pass by with a frown, 

But in love to the tempted draw near! 



80 WHY TABBY YE 8PBING-TIME. 



WHY TARRY YE SPRING-TIME. 

Why tarry ye spring-time, why tarry so long? 
We wait for your coming; we wait for the song 
Of the bluebird and robin to fall on our ear. 
0, beautiful spring-time why are ye not here? 

We long for earth's beautiful carpet of green. 
We watch for the flowers ; but not one can be seen. 
For the sound of your footsteps we anxiously wait. 
Why tarry ye spring-time, why tarry so late; 

Wake up little buds ; come out from the snow 
Full long have ye slept, awake now and show, 
The beautiful colors, that bring us such cheer, 
And then shall we feel that the springtime is here. 



INVOCATION. 81 



INVOCATION. 

Out of the darkness, and out of the night, 
Into the realm of Truth and Light, 
Far from all things which are gross and material, 
Upward toward all that is pure and ethereal, 
Lift us, oh. Infinite Spirit! 

Let no temptation or evil enthrall, 
Help us to exercise love toward all. 
Speed on the day, when of Christian charity- 
It need not be said, Alas ! for the rarity ! 

Help us to trust, where sight cannot reach, 
Knowing that soon or late unto each 
Shall be unfolded the deep, deep mystery 
That has o'er-clouded the page of life's history. 
We thank thee, oh Father, that dimly is dawning 
The sunlight of Truth, the "Millenial morning. " 
And that soon o'er the earth shall re-echo the 

song. 
Of the triumph of Right, over Error and wrong. 



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